Conviction: Unsaid
by ChestnutBrumby
Summary: Smithy x Stevie, set the Conviction series, the day Smithy brings Stevie home from hospital, with the final chapter taking place after the court case. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Written in the middle of Conviction. **

**I don't own the Bill or any mentioned characters. If I did, these two would definitely be together. **

Conviction: Unsaid

Smithy tried to summon something that might pass for a smile. Grim as he felt - worrying over if his career was going to end after smashing scum-of-London Jason Devlin into the ground - the woman at his side was possibly the only person who could make him feel better. It was for her he had laid into the creep in the first place.

Stevie returned the smile, thought it was a faint shadow of her usual jaunty grin. Smithy placed a gentle hand on her back as they walked the single step up to her apartment, and Stevie had to remind herself not to lean towards towards him - too afraid of what might happen if he put an arm around her.

He helped her to her small kitchen table. She was still a little unsteady, and slightly groggy after being medicated in the hospital earlier. It wasn't the first time he'd been inside her apartment and though she knew she should still be feeling self-conscious about having him there, in reality is just felt like the most natural thing that could happen. He'd been looking out for her - in his own quiet way - for a while now.

A girl could get used to having a man like Smithy around.

"Sure you're all right?" Even his familiar accent was comforting.

"Yeah, Smithy. Thanks for coming to get me." She'd never gotten out of the habit of calling him by the familiar nickname.

"Thought about letting you hitchhike." A flicker of the light-hearted banter they often found themselves wrapped up in when they were together. But tonight wasn't the night for that.

"Cuppa tea?" She asked him, feeling nerves start to flutter her insides. He put a hand on her shoulder before she could get up. "You stay there, I'll get it."

The sounds of cutlery and mugs clinking in her small kitchen made her feel safe, protected, and ultimately, drowsy. By the time he returned to the table she was almost nodding off. The scent of the freshly made tea, or maybe the quiet sound of his footfalls, roused her a little. She wrapped both hands around the mug for warmth - the evenings were getting cooler now, the light fading faster.

Smithy, looking at her, felt a flash of something now becoming familiar when he looked at his colleague of several years now. It was an odd sort of mix, protectiveness, longing, loyalty, and deepest affection all mingled together. It was impossible not to feel when he looked into those sparkling blue eyes with just a hint of grey, and it was especially heightened now with the scrape decorating her cheekbone.

He could keep this a reluctant secret from everyone else on the team - but not from her. He put his mug down on the table.

"I was the one who beat up Devlin."

Gone was the drowsy expression. Her eyes widened, staring at him in amazement. "You..."

"I came around the corner and I saw him laying into ya... I just snapped. When I pulled him off you I hit him and I couldn't stop." He couldn't keep looking into those eyes. Dropping his head into his hands, he closed his eyes.

It took Stevie a moment to come to her senses. "Looks like I was wrong."

He dared to look up. There was warmth and understanding in her expression as she explained. "In the hospital... when I woke up. I asked where you were... was only joking."

"This isn't a joke." He said heavily. Stevie couldn't bear the defeat in his eyes. She reached out for him, taking one of his hands between both of hers, the same way he had for her in hospital. "You always come through for me, don't you?"

He hung his head again. "You was just... lying there." He said softly, and before she knew it Stevie had left her chair to wrap her arms around him, feeling his arms circle her in return as she nestled her head into his shoulder. "It'll be okay." She whispered to him, feeling a slight shake of his head. He pulled back slightly so he could look at her - and was in time to see her stumble. He was close enough to steady her, and quickly got up from his chair to guide her into it. It had been a long day for her, and here he was letting her comfort him. "Got it all backwards, don't we." He sighed, placing a careful thumb on her jawline, checking she was okay. "I'm meant to be the one looking after you, here."

She smiled, but he could see the tension around her eyes, the day finally catching up with her. She shook her head to dispell his worry, but a hand went to her head. "I'm sorry, Smithy." She murmured, and he heard the weariness in her voice. After a brutal assult he really shouldn't be surprised.

"Don't apologize. Come on." Before she could protest, Smithy lifted her in his arms, carrying her up her stairs. She was fairly heavy, but she didn't resist, instead curling her head slightly to rest on his shoulder again. One hand reached up to grip the front of his shirt, thought it as hard to determine weather it was from protest or comfort.

He laid her gently on the bed, removed her grip on his shirt front, and sat down on the foot of the bed to remove her shoes. "Hey." She mumbled as he took off a sock, but she was tiring rapidly. The hospital had warned him it might happen, since they'd given her a final pain releif before they left.

He tucked the covers around her and took a last look down at her face, the lines smoothed out now she was moments from sleep. Without thinking he leaned over to press a soft kiss to her forehead. She stirred slightly, but her eyes remained closed.

The door clicked softly as he closed it behind him and made his way back down the stairs. He picked up their mugs and carried them to the sink to rinse, then stood for a moment in her kitchen. Her apartment was small - much like his own - but their were unique touches of Stevie everywhere. A brightly patterned tea-towel with jumping dolphins, the cheerful yellow trim on the sills, a small vase with coloured flowers, magnetic frames on the fridge holding photos. There was one that looked like her with a sister or a similar-looking blonde relative, a shot of her and the rest of CID standing formally in a line - but it was the last photo that caught Smithy's eyes. It was one of those endless snapshots taken down at the pub on a Friday night. He couldn't remember it being taken, despite the fact he was centered in the photo with an arm thrown around Stevie's shoulders. He was looking at her, his teeth showing in a grin, and she was laughing at the camera. Someone's arm holding a beer was behind them, to their left Ben and Sally appeared to be wrestling, and on the right was Mickey, who looked a little startled, as if the flash going off had surprised him.

Smithy picked up the photo to study it closer. Both he and Stevie looked really, honestly happy. He noticed how good Stevie looked, at ease with her friends around her - at ease with him?

Too tired to figure things out just then, Smithy replaced the photo and wandered back into the narrow hall. He suddenly realized he had no intention of going home. Pulling off his own boots, he sat down on Stevie's couch, then leaned back, pulling a cuhsion under his head. There was a rug draped over the back he pulled down for a cover.

Things might not make any more sense in the morning. But he was comforted by the thought of Stevie finding him there the next morning, of being able to look out for her, and make sure she was all right.

Sleep, at last, came for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stevie awoke with surprise, not having been able to remember coming to bed. The LCD clock on her bedside table shone twenty-four minutes past one. Cautiously she swung her feet over the edge of the matress and sat up. There was a light downstairs, she suspected from the kitchen - which was odd, because she always turned everything off before coming to bed.

Half-way don the stairs, hearing the sound of snoring, she had to stifle a laugh. Decending the last few, she spotted Smithy sprawlled on her crouch. Head tilted back, a rug covering his left leg but mostly on the floor, he had one arm thrown up with the hand on the couch back, the other leg dangling off the couch altogther, _and_ he was lying diagonally across the couch. He looked too comfortable for her to think about waking him. She tiptoed into the kitchen to turn the light off, pausing once she flicked the switch to ger her bearings. She headed back towards the stairs, still trying not to laugh at Smithy's routine snores, moving stealthily, not wanting to-

Crash into the coffee table and knock it over, which is what she did a moment later.

"Woooah!" She heard Smithy's voice followed by a curse as he leaped up, crashed into the overturned coffee table, and then hit the ground heavily. "Smithy! Are you all right?"

A groan answered her. "Turn on the light, would ya?"

She groped her way to the wall and hit the switch. Turning, she found Smithy on the floor beside the crouch, the rug now caught up around his ankle, distangling himself from the coffee table. "I was trying not to wake you..." She said, and he smiled ironically. "Nicely done." He teased, sitting on the crouch to remove the rug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go fall asleep here, I was-"

She waved away his excuses. "Smithy, please - everything you've done for me, you don't need to. It was a long day yesterday."

He had folded the rug, rather haphazardly, and placed it on the crouch back. "Got a feelin' we got a few of them coming up."

"Mmm." She came to sit beside him, shivering slightly. He immiedately drew an arm around her shoulders, and she felt his warm shoulder against her side. Galcning up at him - he was much taller than she was, even sitting down - she tapped a finger against his chin lightly. "You know you get this... sort of distant look sometimes. Like something's so far out of reach you'll never catch up to it."

"Hmm." It was a cross between a spoken word and an exhale. Watching the lght and shadows play over Stevie's face, he had a sudden urge to tell her exacly how he felt, and exactly why it was so difficult. "Stevie... I don't want to... it's a really, really long story."

The finger moved to his lips and pressed gently to silence him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she tilted her chin to look up at him. "Smithy, you can tell me anything."

And, because he knew that he could, he told her everything.

He told her how he'd fallen for Kerry, and everything that had happened with the allegations, with Gabreiel, with poor Andrea. That despite all his doubts and agaonzing he knew he could never give up on Kerry Young, and he stood by her in the end until he'd finally confessed his love. He felt the tears threaten as he told her how Kerry had been shot right there in his arms, how he'd slumped, stunned, against the area car with her, and how she had died in her hospital bed. That later he had learned what Gabriel had done to her, and that she had died carrying Gabriel's unborn son.

Stevie cried silently for him, the tears running down her cheeks as she gripped his hand, wondering how anyone had the strength to go on after that.

He told her how he'd changed after Kerry, lost sight of his job, his friends. About Lousie, the poorest substitute he could have found. About ending up in prision because of her, but being saved because Mickey and the team had beleived in his innocnce.

How he'd met Kerry's father who had told him Kerry called him her knight in shining armour.

The rage he felt against Gabriel when he learned of what he had done, pushing him over the edge. He'd attacked Gabriel... and later when the truth had come out. How he'd always felt he had to avenge Kerry, but that he'd failed her in the end when Gabriel took his own life.

Stevie, though she couldn't stop the tears falling as the story unfolded, said nothing, merely listened as he spoke. When he had finished, he moved out of their embrance, sitting his his bowed head in his hands. She could see his shoulders trembling. Gently, she pulled one hand away, taking it in hers, and ran the other across his cheek. He looked up, looked into her blue eyes, and knew she would understand, that she had the strength to hear anything he could ever tell her.

"After everything... it never really did return to normal, you know... it was slow. Gradual. But I felt like I could never, ever put myself through anything like that again. I was careful, more guarded, I didn't show people that I cared. It's the same with you. I had to make sure that I knew how I felt. I didn't want to rush anything, make any stupid descisions." _Risk loosing you like I lost Kerry_.

"I know about those." she murmured with an ironic smile hinting at her lips. "Smithy, all my life I made the worst possible choices with men. And I promised myself that... with you... I wouldn't."

An almost playful light entered his green eyes. "Back on the Gun runner obbo... what was that kiss, then?"

She grinned back at him - pure, mischeivious Stevie Moss. "Okay, maybe I slipped up once or twice." The sound of his chuckle made the smile linger, and she realized her hand as still hovering near his face. Lightly she stroked his cheek again, watching his features go serious for a moment, then soon relaxing under her touch. She traced the line of his jaw, letting her thumb brush his lips, watching his eyes close as she smoothed down the brown hair that tended to stand up in spikes, invited or not. He relaxed completely, body leaning back into hers, and she felt the weight of him settle plesantly against her side. His hand came up to catch hers, eyes flickering open, regretful smile on her face. "Tempting as it is to slip up now, Stevie... I can't."

She smiled a little sadly, enjoying the feel of his strong fingers gently carcessing her own. "I know you can't." She replied softly. "You can't be anyone but who you are... and that's why I'm falling in love with you."

She knew of course, what those words meant to him. Why he looked, for a moment, so utterly terrified, guilty, and hopeless. The last woman to tell him those words had been fatally shot moments later. She wouldn't rush him.

After what seemed to be an eternity for them both, Smithy shifted slightly, though his hand still gripped Stevie's like she was his lifeline. "I... should go." He felt the words catch, knew their reluctance showed.

She held onto him as tightly as he did her. "Don't leave." She said softly. "I don't... I'm not asking for anything. I just want you here. Not alone."

He drew her hand to her lips to press a gentle kiss to it. "All right." He said quietly. "It won't take me forever, you know."

She smiled again, pulling her legs up onto the crouch and leaning slightly into him. "I know. I'll wait for you, Smithy." The promise in her beautiful eyes were what convinced him. No matter what they had riding on this - the Devlin case, their careers, their emotions - one look into those eyes and he knew. He had to risk it. For her he'd risk anything. Not that day, or week, or even that month. But someday, when he found the courage to look his past in the eye and make peace, Stevie would give him a future he only could have dreamed about.

She got up only to turn the light off. He heard the creak of her body returning to the couch, the soft rustle as she sought him in the darkness. He reached for her, drawing her close. She curled against his chest, her head tucked in the curve of his shoulder. He let his arms settle around her, her hair soft under his cheek. They needed no displays of passion, not this time. He reached up to pull the rug back down and shook it out, covering her carefully. Warm and safe, wrapped up in one another in the darkness.

Stevie felt a gentle exhale ruffle her hair slightly, and just as she was drifting off, Smithy's voice reached her ears.

"Stevie?"

"Mm-mm?"

"I love you, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Mickey raised his glass. "To Smithy!" he cheered, managing to spill a portion of his drink on the table, earning him a shove to the shoulder and teasing remarks from the Sun Hill officers around him.

But the cry was picked up, and glasses raised, voices calling support and contraulations for _Inspector_ Dale Smith. The promotion had been a popular one, well deserved in the eyes of everyone gathered at the table celebreating Smithy's victory over the Devlins. Noticably absent was Callum. Either jellousy over his former fellow Seargent's promotion or in the knowledge he knew the truth about Smithy beating up Devlin, Smithy wasn't too bothered. All he knew was that here and now, there were friends around him, people he trusted, slapping him on the back and supporting him. The faces, over the years, had changed - though some familiar ones did remain. There was Mickey, boyish and clumsy as ever. Smithy owed a lot to him, a debt of friendship he would never forget. Tony, who's attitude and laugh never changed, merely the amunt of grey in his hair. And new faces, some he'd only known a year or to, but were all a dedicated part of his team.

Then there was Stevie.

"Cheers!" Hollered the voices, some at various stages of being slightly to severaly tipsy. He drank deeply, with a nod and a quick grin. "Appreciate it, everyone." He nodded, never having been the best with words. But he had large shoes to fill now - not so much Rachel's, before him, but Gina's, before her. He ould do everything he could to make sure the job, the station, she loved, kept going.

"So, Inspector Smith, how long are you planning on keeping old-timers like me and Roger around?" Tony, who had had two or perhaps three too many, asked from the other side of the table. Roger, who had drank twice as much as Tony but looked twice as sobor, rapped the table indignantly. "Oi, less of that, old-timer yourself!"

Smithy waved them off. "Nah, I like having the two of ya around - makes me look younger in the group photos, yeah?" His comment was greeted with general laughter from the table as a whole.

It was a good night, filled with light banter and joking exchanges. Smithy hadn't allowed himself to lighten up that much for a long time, but it as hard to resist - a celebratiion in his name, the name cleared after the Devlin court case, the refugees safe... Stevie laughing beside him.

One by one the releif headed for home. Mickey begged off with a mountain of paperork waiting for him the next morning, amid Banky's claims the pile on Mickey's desk was a permanent one that had been standing since his arrival to Sun Hill, never seeming to grow any smaller. Sally, any drink more than one generally too much for her, was taken home in a taxi by Ben, ever looking out for her. When Stevie was the next to make her farewells Smithy rose with her. she lived nearby, close enough to walk, but not close enough he'd have her go alone.

Goodbyes, many slurred, followed them as they made their exit. The cool evening air refreshed Smithy, and he lifted his head a little, closing his eyes for one moment as he drank in the freshness. Stevie looked up at him, outlined against the street lights, tall and reassuring. Another woman had once called him a knight in shining armour. Stevie knew she was right. She was sorry she hadn't been the one to meet him first, but knew his past was a part of who he was, that accepting him meant accepting that. As they strolled together his hand found hers, and they made most of the joruney in completely comfortable silence.

"Stevie, can I ask you something?" His voice was so serious she turned to him immedately, half apprenhsive at what he felt the need to declare to her.

"Course."

"What's 'Stevie' short for?" She nearly laughed out loud.

"Stephanie. And if you ever, ever call me that, I will have to kill you."

He grinned, letting her hand go only to throw his arm around her shoulder. The walk to her front door was over too quickly.

They hovered, Steevie on the single step, caught in the ineviatble awkward moment. Eventually she laughed softly - she still had to reach up, even with the step, to plant a quick goodnight kiss on his cheek.

Before she could pull back a firm arm went around her waist, a hand guiding her cheek so he could kiss her properly, with a sudden fire neither of them expected. She pressed closer, locking an arm under his shoulder to pull them even closer, her other hand sliding behind his head and carrassing his hair. She was panting when they finally broke apart, and he looked equally shellshocked.

"No apologies." She said softly before he could speak. "Not between us. Not anymore."

He smiled, the warm, wide smile that very few people ever saw anymore. "You're an amazing woman, Stevie Moss."

She kissed him again, trying not to let it feel like a question. His response was shorter, but sweet, dedicated, promising.

"Not tonight, then." she smiled, resting her forehead against his. She felt the sublte shake of his head. "When we do-"

"I know." She couldn't resist pressing a last kiss to his lips, letting him know she understood completely, that he could take the time - and that when he was ready, she'd still be there.

"Sleep well, Stevie." He reluctantly dropped her hand, and she smiled at him once last time before he slipped inside.

Conviction - Smithy had it in spades.

**So, there you have it - I know, no plot, just past mistakes, and future hopes. Tried to keep it to the series... because someday, you can tell, they'll be together. **


End file.
